The slighted words slipping 

Past

Ripples in the seventy-one percent

Water-filled planet

Out of that many particles

I choose the words that appear

To fit best

Voices speaking too far ahead of my 

Sensory perception 

But it is not me

Who should be cowering in fear;

In embarrassment from ignorance

Bulging, shiny men with pen 

And paper

Coursing the lines printed for simpletons

With their phallicies and cuntinuations 

Of one syllable words-

The most rudimentary poems  

I smile:

Turn it down a tad

As you wish, darling

Yes, please turn is down

Out of my mind's ear holes

And thought holes

And electric burning wires

I pray to God

That I had never heard 

That bullshit